


We Lie Awake At Night

by jmcats



Series: Run For the Woods Now [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kidfic, M/M, Rimming, ziam, ziam smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmcats/pseuds/jmcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His life, the one with his friends, with his son, with Liam, still feels a little too incredible to be true. But if it is, he'll never let himself become content with it. Nothing this amazing should ever become routine.</p><p>(A small companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/800140">Run for the Woods Now</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Lie Awake At Night

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic is complete fluff. Seriously, it's like 75% fluff, 10% silliness, 15% smut. Oh, and the smut is sort of a kink not everyone is into, so please, read carefully.
> 
> It's dedicated to [Clare](http://archiveofourown.org/users/retts/pseuds/retts) who challenged me to write a fluff fic. I decided to put my angst aside for a little bit and take on the challenge (and the few requests I got from other readers to do something other than angst).
> 
> I'm not ashamed of the sugariness of this fic because it felt good to write something that didn't drain me emotionally for once. But you've been warned so, please, don't hate me for this fic. I kept it short for a reason :)
> 
> Quick playlist: "Go Slow" by HAIM and "Now is Not the Time" by CHVRCHES

There’s something about mornings he’s grown accustom to.

He still hates them, _passionately_ , and any other morning, he’s grumpy with very few people who can pull a smile from his lips those days.  He needs coffee, a few more hours to bury himself beneath the duvet and his pillows, and, honestly, he probably could use a cigarette and a long shower.  But there’s something achingly wonderful about the sun peeking through his window, running earnest waves over his skin as he cuddles closer to a warmer body, burying his head into the crook of Liam’s neck until he stirs, pulls Zayn closer with strong arms.  And the quiet murmurs of another voice, just across the hall, calling for him, needing him as much as he needs to stumble out of his bed and lift his son into his arms just to layer his skin with soft kisses.

There’s no sun running gentle fingers of light across his skin this morning.  It’s a rolling thunder outside, the sound of plinking raindrops clicking against the window, over the roof of his flat.  The sky is a thick gray, leaving his room shredded in shadows that chase away almost all of the color from the paint on the walls.  He can hear the drops of rain showering the streets, clanking off of the storm drain, rushing over the brick walls and he curls further into the sheets tangled around his body.  He groans lowly, the soft material sliding over his bare back, down across his thighs, and he tries to run closer to the heat.  He smiles against warm skin, fingers digging into Liam’s hip until Liam stirs with him, mumbling something in his sleep as he draws Zayn in.

He’s not certain he’s adjusted to this yet – waking up every morning to Liam in his bed, sometimes on the couch.  He doesn’t always know how to react when Liam wakes him with quiet kisses, strong hands smoothing down Zayn’s back, dipping into the small of his back.  He thinks sometimes it’s a dream – an amazing one he doesn’t ever plan on waking from – when he finds his head on a broad shoulder, Safi curled to Liam’s chest, and the world a brilliant haze of sunlight, ardent colors, lingering scents, and smooth skin Zayn traces for at least an hour before they crawl out of bed to start their day.

He still hasn’t centered his world on the thought that Liam lives here now, Safi too.  Or the fact that Niall’s across the hall in the flat Liam used to share with Harry.  He feels out of place whenever Louis comes by, Harry in tow, and they snuggle to each other on _Zayn’s_ couch like this has always been.  Like Niall has always been with Eleanor – a fact that Niall avoids or denies for a few months because it still feels weird; not the Niall being with Eleanor part.  It’s the fact that Niall is with _anyone_ , though he’s good at taking a piss at Zayn anytime he gives Niall shit about being in a relationship – _“Have you forgotten I found you and Liam nearly fucking each other’s brains out on our couch?”_

He hates that some mornings Liam’s out of bed before he is, leaving him cold and abandoned but Zayn knows Liam’s still obsessed with his morning run, his inability to be the least bit lazy like Zayn is.  He lets a smile curl around his lips when Liam slinks back into the bed, sweaty with his clothes sticking to his skin, but Zayn likes him like that.  He loves the heady smell, the musk, the way Liam runs light touches over his skin while Zayn tries to snuggle closer.  Liam makes a face, grinning, but Zayn doesn’t give a shit.  He doesn’t care if Liam wants to shower or make breakfast or wake Safi up just to play with him on the floor until Zayn is a little less grumpy.  No, he wants to rest his head on Liam’s chest until his eyes feel heavy again and all of this feels real instead of a bursting show of fireworks in his mind.

But Liam’s not moving from the bed today.  He’s not rushing out for a run or making Zayn’s coffee before pressing a kiss to Safi’s sleeping head to rush off to the record store.  He’s not nudging Zayn’s side with a pointed finger, reminding Zayn he has class in a few hours.  He’s resting on his back, an arm coiled around Zayn’s shoulders with his head tipped back and an open mouth.  His skin has that soft glow to it, the one Zayn’s memorized enough times to know if the sun was out, he’d be nothing but glittery tan skin.  There’s a bit of scruff on his chin, along his jaw that Zayn traces with a finger, his vision still a little hazy from sleep but he doesn’t need to see clearly to remember how handsome Liam is.  He can do that with his eyes closed, fingers slipping over the curve of those round cheeks, across that nose he loves to kiss, those thick eyebrows, and into that dense brown hair that’s never stiff with product like Zayn’s is most days.

The sheets slide a little, Zayn inching down, pressing a few kisses against Liam’s collarbone.  His fingers are desperate to claw away that old, worn Superman shirt Liam loves to sleep in.  He wants to slip his tongue over Liam’s chest.  His fingers want to run over the planes of his stomach, over that defined abdomen, maybe a little lower until the tips of his fingers run across thick, wiry hair.  He wants to run away into Liam’s bare arms, feel the way those muscles constrict when they pull Zayn in tightly and Zayn’s mumbling words against Liam’s neck that sound like _‘love you,’ ‘fuck me,’ ‘don’t you dare think about letting me go._ ’

Liam rolls to his right, a smile gliding over those thick, pink lips.  He sniffs, tugging on Zayn’s hip until Zayn bunches his lips together, carving rough kisses along Liam’s neck as Liam buries his nose into Zayn’s thick hair.  Liam’s leg shifts between Zayn’s, brushing against that erection Zayn has every morning but he doesn’t think it’s because he’s a chap and, naturally, men wake up hard.  He knows it’s because of Liam; the way he can’t fight this need to want to fuck him, let Liam slide into him any chance he gets, or to suck Liam off until Liam’s panting Zayn’s name long after he comes down Zayn’s throat.

Zayn runs his short fingernails across Liam’s thigh, his thumb sweeping over the downy hair of his legs while shifting his eyes closed again.  He’s caught in something familiar – _bliss_.  He confesses his desire to lay like this, unaffected and dreamy, to Liam’s neck.  He knows Liam’s still too sleepy, still too lost in his own exhaustion from staying at the record store far too late the night before to know what Zayn’s saying.  Zayn doesn’t care.  He knows the words are more for himself than anyone else.

There’s a soft mumbling, a quiet whine that Zayn knows doesn’t come from Liam.  He smiles against Liam’s throat, hands sliding beneath Liam’s shirt.  He feels Liam stretch, yawn quietly before tightening his arm around Zayn.  It’s a colorful comfort that Zayn wants to drown in but he knows he can’t.  Not when there’s another whine, a little more purposeful this time, and he feels Liam stirring stiffly, hips rolling until, yeah, Zayn feels Liam’s cock trying to poke out of his boxers as it rubs painfully stiff against Zayn’s stomach.

“’ve got ‘im,” Liam mumbles, his words whispered into Zayn’s hair.

“No,” Zayn insists softly, rubbing at Liam’s stomach, “you’re right knackered, babe.  I can get him.”

Liam shakes his head violently, eyes still closed.  Zayn peeks up at him with a grin, his vision still a bit blurry but he can see the way Liam’s brow wrinkles, the shifting of his lips.

“You did it yesterday morning,” Liam yawns out, pulling back some and Zayn hates the way his fingers instinctively want to pull on Liam’s shirt, his body needing to bury itself in Liam’s arms.

He feels like a fucking _girl_ , a child, some clingy little thing that he’s never been.  No, he’s done quite fine on his own.  He’s done great with just Safi and that’s it.  But Liam has him in some sort of daze that he can’t quite scatter from.  He _needs_ Liam’s attention, his soft brown eyes on Zayn like Zayn might run away.  He knows he won’t.  He sometimes wonder if Liam might, but then he remembers Liam’s the one that crawls up to him late at night on that couch, sliding into Zayn’s arms, curling around Zayn like some sad puppy after a long day at the record shop.  Liam’s the one who nuzzles his nose to Zayn’s neck, fingers molding over Zayn’s skin like he can’t believe Zayn’s always right here.  Like Zayn’s everything to him.

Zayn never expected that.

He never expected to fall in love, not with someone who acts as if he’s loved Zayn longer than Zayn knew what the definition of the word really meant.

There’s a mumbled cry, one that shakes Liam awake again and Zayn lets him draw all the way back, rolling onto his back while Zayn remains on his side.  He watches Liam rub at his eyes, an arm thrown to the side to reach for something.  Zayn’s teeth pull his lip in, fingers pulling through his hair.  It probably looks a wreck, something he grins at because he knows it’s all Liam’s fault.  He knows Liam pulled at it a little too roughly, combed through it apologetically last night while Zayn’s head was between his thighs, licking patiently at Liam’s cock until Liam was a stuttering mess, begging Zayn to make him come.  And Zayn did, with his lips wrapped around Liam’s prick and his fingers teasing Liam’s hole, sliding two in when Liam fisted the sheets and came across Zayn’s tongue.

Liam’s fingers pluck a pacifier from the bedside table, his back arching for a final stretch before he’s rolling out of the bed, stumbling toward the door.  Zayn doesn’t turn over to watch Liam, giggling to himself when he hears a thump – Liam walking into the wall, no doubt – before he’s in Niall’s old room, the room that’s now littered with toys, diapers, empty bottles, and Safi’s crib.

Zayn buries his head into one of the pillows, eyes sliding tightly shut.  He inhales deeply, the sticky scent of Liam across their sheets, the sting of cigarette smoke on the duvet, the soft hint of Safi underneath everything else.  His fingers clutch at the sheets, bare feet kicking the duvet back a little because it’s stuffy in their room, even though it’s late November and Zayn’s certain it’s far too cold outside to sleep in anything less than a jumper and sweats.  But he does, bundled up in the sheets with Liam’s body keeping him impossibly warm through the night.

He’s halfway to sleep again when the bed dips under Liam’s weight, that warmth returning.  There’s a pool of something electric in his stomach, eyes blinking open.  He fights with a grin, the sky darkening with thunder clattering.  He can still make out Liam in the shadows, his head tipping back as he settles underneath the sheets again.  His back is pressed to the headboard, a hand immediately reaching out to tangle fingers in Zayn’s hair while he cradles Safi in his other arm, his shirt now removed so Safi can cling to Liam’s bare chest.

Zayn lets Liam push his hair back, Liam’s large eyes heavy and drooping but he’s got a neon smile on his lips as he looks down at Zayn, then Safi.  He nuzzles his cheek to the top of Safi’s head, Safi looking down at his father with wild iris eyes that Zayn nearly suffocates in.  His fingers ache, a sudden need to run over Safi’s hair, push those bangs back as Liam presses another kiss to Safi’s forehead.  It’s some sort of unexplainable magic – the way Liam looks with Safi in his arms.  He knows he’ll never get used to it.  He sort likes the idea of that, the way he’ll always feel dizzy watching his son clinging to the man he loves.  It feels terribly natural.

“Keep saying we’re going to break him of this habit,” Liam whispers, his thumb stroking over Safi’s back and Zayn’s a little too focused on that silly onesie Safi’s wearing – why he lets Liam dress Safi in that silly Robin onesie with the giant _‘R’_ on his chest, he’ll never understand – to hear all of Liam’s words but he blinks up at Liam, nipping at his bottom lip.

“The pacifier,” Zayn guesses, a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth when Liam offers him a small nod.  “One day.”

“One day,” Liam repeats, giving Zayn a disbelieving look that Zayn snorts at.

They both know Zayn’s lying.  He hasn’t put forth as much effort as Liam has at breaking Safi of his need for a pacifier.  Or trying to help Safi adjust to sleeping in a crib rather than their bed – “It’s not my fault he likes sleeping between _us_ rather than that shit crib.” “ _You_ bought him the crib, Zayn.” “I was an idiot.”  And Zayn can wholeheartedly admit he might be the reason Safi’s first word was “babe” instead of something a bit more conventional but, really, it’s sort of Liam’s fault too.  It’s not as if he shies away when Zayn calls him that, though the blush that shifts against his cheeks is a clear indication to Zayn that, well, Liam’s a bit embarrassed when Zayn says it.

The thunder lets out an angry rumble, Safi trembling against Liam’s chest until Liam shushes him, Zayn reaching up to run his hand across Safi’s back, his fingers slipping over Liam’s.  Liam stills his hand, chewing on his lip with a grin while Zayn strokes over his hand, his fingers, sliding his between Liam’s.  It’s a quiet action, the way their fingers tangle together over Safi’s back, but they’re too busy smiling at each other to say what they’re thinking.

They stay like that for a while, their fingers locked, Safi shifting in Liam’s arms before yawning, his pacifier nearly slipping from those pinkish lips.  Zayn remains curled to a pillow, Liam leaning up against the headboard while looking down at Zayn every few moments before looking away like he shouldn’t admire Zayn for too long.  It’s… _adorable_.

Zayn bites at his lip, his other hand pinching at Liam’s side until Liam snickers, nods at Zayn because he knows what Zayn wants.  Zayn doesn’t know how but maybe it’s something he’s not supposed to sort out.  Maybe it’s some unspoken language that all lovers have with each other.  It sounds daft when he thinks about it, when he contemplates it for too long but, fuck, it feels right.  It feels incredible that Liam knows the little things Zayn wants like a kiss, a cuddle, a hand on his back when he’s sleeping, a tongue in his mouth when he’s horny, a hand in his hair when he’s incredibly knackered from taking care of Safi all day while trying to study for some stupid exam that he knows he’ll never pass but he does.

Liam cautiously slides down the headboard, settling against the mattress again while inching an arm around Zayn’s shoulders.  He tugs Zayn closer, smirking when Zayn pretends it’s not what he wants.  But he does.  Fuck, he wants it more than anything.

He curls up to Liam’s side, throwing an arm across Safi’s back, smiling when his son crawls over Liam’s chest, slides down into Zayn’s arms.  He lets Safi rest his head against his collarbone, small fingers bunching before splaying over Zayn’s rising and falling chest.  He nuzzles his nose to Safi’s cheek, grinning at the squealed laughter falling from Safi’s lips, the one that pushes the pacifier out.  Zayn doesn’t flinch when Safi yawns, batting long lashes against those pushed up cheeks.

“You spoil him,” Liam whispers into Zayn’s ear and Zayn can feel Liam’s smile through his words.

“You do too.”

“Not as much as _you_ ,” Liam argues softly, nipping at Zayn’s earlobe.

“’m supposed to.  I’m his baba,” Zayn tells him, running his eyes over Safi’s slightly larger form.  He’s a little longer, his hair thicker and nearly blonde-brown.  He’s over a year old now but Zayn still wants to cling to how tiny he was as an infant.  He feels a bit silly because he doesn’t think all fathers are like this.  He doesn’t think his was but he’s seen the old photos, the way his baba clung to him when Zayn was as small as Safi.  Something cold shifts over his skin because he knows Safi will never know him the way Zayn did.

“He’s probably hungry,” Liam says, his voice hushed while his fingers shift over Zayn’s scalp.

Zayn inches into that touch, eyes fluttering shut when the calloused tips of Liam’s fingers press a little firmer, massaging Zayn in the most satisfying way.

“He’s sleepy,” Zayn says back, tilting his head back.  He turns a little, smirking at Liam.  He wishes he could see the blush riddling Liam’s cheeks but the shadows are gentled against his face, hiding the parts Zayn adores the most.

“He probably wishes you two weren’t so sickeningly sweet all the time.”

Zayn rolls his eyes immediately, feels the bed shift when Liam startles at the sound of Louis’ voice.  Sometimes Zayn wishes Niall didn’t still have that spare key, or that he’d let Louis borrow it more often than needed because, honestly, what the fuck could Louis need from Zayn’s flat?  Besides that stupid plant that Zayn still hasn’t managed to set on fire but only because Harry and Liam are a bit sentimental about the stupid thing.  Zayn?  Not so much.

“Lou,” Zayn sighs out, rolling further onto his back while Safi peeks his head up, blinking curiously at Louis.

Louis leans in the doorframe, a grin perched on his lips with his arms folded over his chest.  He’s hiding his brown hair under a beanie – _definitely Harry’s_ , Zayn thinks – with a thick jumper on – probably Harry’s, _again_ – and a pair of sweats.  There’s a nice thickness to his scruff, not nearly as much as Zayn’s but it strips away that boyish look Louis’ had for far too long.  Those blue eyes, the ones that could rival Niall’s on a good day, seem to glow in the dimness of the room and Zayn thinks they’re nearly as electrifying as the lightning streaking the sky outside.

“Niall’s starving, Haz is at the record store, and I can’t be bothered with it all,” Louis says, a grin tipping on his lips when Liam rolls over, lips pressing to Zayn’s shoulder while folding an arm over Safi’s back and Zayn’s chest.  “The little shit called me no less than _seven_ times this morning and you know how I am about my mornings.”

Zayn does, religiously.  Louis was far worse than Zayn and that’s saying a lot because Zayn could be _vicious_ in the morning.  Not that he feels bad about threatening to kick Niall out into the streets stark naked if he didn’t let Zayn sleep peacefully or that one time he actually dumped a box of Safi’s cereal on Harry’s head for playing a game of FIFA loudly while Zayn tried to take a kip after class because, honestly, they both deserved it but Louis makes Zayn look like a saint in the morning.

“Have you threatened to wax all the hair off of his balls yet?” Zayn asks with a chuckle, grinning at the way Liam throws his hands over Safi’s ears, shooting Zayn an incredulous look like he can’t believe Zayn just said that.  Zayn ignores him to press a sloppy kiss to Safi’s forehead, his nose scrunching when Safi giggles at him.

“ _Twice_ ,” Louis groans with wide eyes.  “I think he liked the idea.”

Zayn winces at that.  Niall was definitely weird.  Loveable, but weird.

Louis waves a hand around, glaring at Zayn like he expects him to apologize.  Zayn won’t, they both know.  But Zayn also knows it’s the dynamic of their friendship.  It’s still one of the best parts of Zayn’s life, and one of the most annoying ones too.

“And your precious little Ianto Jones here makes my love Harry go to work when it’s fantastically shitty outside,” Louis whines, waving both of his hands around this time and he’s incredibly dramatic about it all.

“Who?” Liam asks and Louis balks at him, his mouth hanging open with large blue eyes.

Zayn snorts, biting at his bottom lip.  Harry’s definitely corrupted Louis.  Not nearly as much as Louis’ corrupted Harry, but still.

“Honestly, Lou – “

“How do you not know who Ianto is?” Louis asks Liam, ignoring Zayn.

“I’m supposed to?” Liam wonders, trading glances between Louis and Zayn.  Zayn shrugs, grinning down at Safi as he tilts his head at Liam curiously.

“Fucking hell,” Louis says lowly, rocking back on his heels and he doesn’t stir when Liam glares at him.

Zayn shakes his head, nudging Liam softly because he knows Liam’s less than three seconds from chucking a pillow at Louis’ head and reminding him that, yes, there is a baby in the room and using such words are unacceptable.  He knows it’ll be a waste of Liam’s time – and Louis will probably laugh at him – so he reaches back to stroke a hand over Liam’s hip, trying to be as reassuring as one can be with Louis Tomlinson around.

“Where’s the lad?” Zayn finally asks, pushing back Safi’s fringe before glancing into those large, lilac eyes.  He grins, Safi crawling closer to him, pushing a wet kiss to Zayn’s chin.

“The little shit,” Louis pauses, sighing heavily at the look he gets from Liam, “the little _leprechaun_ is whimpering on the couch.  Honestly, I don’t know how Hazza does it?  He was never this clingy with us.”

“Harry has that effect on people,” Liam says with a smirk, brown eyes tracing over Louis as if to say something else but his smile says enough.

Louis looks taken aback, lips fixing together to say something but Zayn barks out a laugh, startling Safi.  Louis won’t admit it, but he knows Liam is telling the truth.  Louis is right enamored with Harry; every little thing about that curly-haired, green-eyed bloke with that cherry smile and deep, drawling voice.  Louis could probably say the same about Zayn but Zayn wouldn’t deny it.  He’d probably punch Louis though.

Louis sighs restlessly, flipping Liam off before grinning at Safi, who looks sheepishly at Louis for a moment.  Louis offers him a small wave, one that draws a smile from Safi’s lips, small feet kicking before Louis’ spinning on his heels, stomping toward the living area where Zayn can already hear Niall groaning weakly.

“And don’t you two take a quick kip either,” Louis calls out just as Zayn’s eyes slide shut, “My love Safi needs a bottle and, Zayn, you look sickly.  Perfectly _starved_.  You look like some advertisement for starving kids in a foreign country or something.  Get some nosh.  No sex.”

He is rather positive he hates Louis Tomlinson, best mate or not.

Time sort of lingers in their room for a moment, Safi reaching up to play in Zayn’s hair while Liam huffs a laugh into Zayn’s neck, mumbling something about Zayn having shit taste in friends, to which Zayn could argue Liam does too since his best mate is fucking arse over tit in love with Zayn’s said best mate but he doesn’t.  He merely rubs gentle fingers over Safi’s back, stretching his neck some to offer Liam more skin to smile against, feather lightweight kisses that are all kinds of distracting but Zayn doesn’t say anything.  He lets a few minutes waste away while something like velvet wraps itself tightly around his heart.

“We’re still on for my parents’ house tonight, yeah?” Liam asks lowly, his lips still rubbing lightly over Zayn’s neck.  “Mum’s cooking and my dad’s helping which, quite frankly, scares me but dad’s promised if he burns anything, we’ll have takeaway.  I’m hoping he doesn’t though because mum makes a brilliant stew.  I mean, babe, she’s a genius in the kitchen.”

Zayn smiles to himself.  He wonders how Liam managed to stay so fit, so built when he’s as addicted to his mum’s cooking as Zayn is to cigarettes, which is saying a lot because, yeah, Zayn’s not quitting that anytime soon.  But it’s endearing, the way Liam will drive nearly a half hour away just to sit at that little table in the corner of his parents’ kitchen, rattling on about trivial things while forking anything his mum cooks into his mouth like he’s been starved for years.  Which he sort of is living with Zayn because Zayn is shit in the kitchen.  Always has been, but Liam doesn’t take a piss at him about it.  He’s kind, sickeningly sweet while doing his best to cook for them most nights, testing everything out on Zayn before looking to Safi for approval because Zayn’s never satisfied.  Well, unless it’s in bed.  Or in love, not that he has anything good to compare Liam to because, _fuck_ , Liam is something rare.  He knows it.

“Looking forward to it,” Zayn says with a smile, hazel eyes still on Safi.  He tips his head back, trying to untangle Safi’s hands from his hair but not really.  It’s too amusing watching the way Safi gets lost in it all.

“Really?”

Zayn nods slowly, turning his head a little to offer Liam a petite grin that Liam blushes at.

He’s not lying, not one bit.  He loves Liam’s parents, though he’s not quite sure he knows them well enough to have that swelling feeling he does when Liam’s mum greets with him a smile.  That warm sensation swallows him when Liam’s dad throws an arm around his shoulders, drags him into the living area and forcing him to sit on that old, worn out couch that sinks in the middle cushion when Zayn flops onto it.  He loves the way Liam’s mum dotes over him like she does with Liam, rubbing at his shoulder while telling old stories about Liam as a kid – and he can’t deny he loves the way Liam always blushes during those stories, ducking his head shyly – and he’s fond of Ruth and Nicola too.  He grins when they tease Liam, scrubbing at his head even though he’s nearly three inches taller than they are and there’s always something infectiously affectionate about the way Ruth talks about Liam while Nicola reminds Zayn that Liam’s never been in love like this.

Zayn doesn’t think he has either, but he keeps that to himself.  It’s a scary thought that pinches at his heart and leaves him a little unnerved.

He can’t help the way his lips spread into a smile, cheeks pushing upward until his eyes scrunch when he thinks about the way Liam’s parents made such a fuss about Safi’s first birthday.  They were insistent about stopping by their flat, his mum blowing up balloons while his dad dressed Safi in some silly onesie – honestly, Zayn didn’t really know which football team it was but he knew Safi was pleasantly happy in that powder blue outfit, giggling the entire time Liam’s dad teased him with a playful smile.  There was cake, presents, and even Louis was shockingly well behaved while Liam’s mum squealed over Safi and his smile – “He’s simply beautiful.  Honestly, how can I not fall in love with him?”  And Zayn sat in the corner of the couch, Liam’s arms fastened around him with his chin on Zayn’s shoulder while it all happened.  He was smiling, wondering how two people who had just met him a little over a month before – _“This is my boyfriend…”_ – and had only known Safi a few weeks, were suddenly so engraved into their lives that Zayn can’t imagine them ever leaving.

He knows it would’ve been the same with his own family but something about the way Liam’s family made him feel, well, _whole_.  It made him want to kiss Liam’s temple and thank him for waiting until Zayn was ready for all of this.

**

The water is a ripple of warmth over his skin.  It cascades down from the showerhead, thudding slightly louder than the rain he knows is still drumming outside.  It slides down the skin, over the curves of his biceps, down the center of his chest where Safi’s resting, across his shoulders and down the small expanse of space between his back and Liam’s chest.  The tap is still hot – something he’s surprised about because they’ve been in the shower at least ten minutes now – and it massages the ache in his muscles, washes away the sleep still clinging to his skin.

Safi’s blinking drops of waters from his eyes, remaining still in Zayn’s arms as the water trickles over his soft skin.  He bats large iris eyes up at Zayn, lips curling into a smile when Zayn ducks his head to look down on him – _Go slow, so that I can be your everything_.  Zayn leans in, brushes his lips over Safi’s forehead, the water caressing just the edge of his mouth.  He leans back when Liam circles kisses over the back of his neck, head tipping back while pushing his hair out of his eyes.

They don’t need words here.  He knows there was a time when they did, small ones that reminded them that this was something quite mutual though they didn’t know how to say it.  There was a hunger, a desire to know this wasn’t just some splendid feeling after one night of unbelievable sex.  Zayn smiles to himself – _it was quite incredible sex, yeah?_   But, no, it was a little more and those kisses trickling over the side of his neck are the most obvious reminder.

Zayn breathes in, smiles quietly while Liam reaches over his shoulder to gently tap the end of Safi’s nose.  Safi giggles softly, the water dripping down Zayn’s face as he steps a little further into the stream.  He feels Liam’s fingers find their groove on his hip – _Well, was it something that I said? I know that it was something that I said._ He reaches backward, finding the nape of Liam’s neck, grinning wildly under the fluttering drops prickling his chest, washing over Safi until Safi’s whining lowly.  He pulls back then, Liam’s arm braced around his middle and it’s a fever of inescapable gentleness that he knows he’s never quite known before this.

He doesn’t think he’s ever understood what love was before this.  Before Safi was with him every day.  Before Liam Payne.  He knows there was something that resembled an off-color version of love with Perrie but that wasn’t close enough.  That wasn’t the feeling one has when you wake up each morning and feel a shiver race over your skin when the one you want most isn’t right there with you.  It wasn’t the sudden rush of safety when a kiss is pressed to your forehead, right along your temple when nothing’s wrong.  He doesn’t think love is supposed to feel so suffocating when the one you care about the most is gone for too long but he’s never been clingy like that.  Not until Liam.  And when he pulls Liam into his arms, feels the heat from his head against Zayn’s chest – _Oh, I just want to go back, hold on to the way that I was_ – he feels a tinge of what he never understood.  What he couldn’t quite define.  What he thought he was never deserving of.

That feeling is amazing each and every time.

“That water is going to get cool soon,” Liam warns him, lips against Zayn’s ear.

Zayn nods, doesn’t make any effort to leave from this place.  Liam doesn’t either, grinning against the shell of Zayn’s ear with a hand sliding over the back of Zayn’s, down Safi’s small spine.  His thumb sweeps over the outline of a dove on the back of Zayn’s hand, fingers moving over his knuckles.  He runs his own fingers, the short nails, over the back of Liam’s neck, into that shorter hair on the back of Liam’s head.  Liam’s fingers trace over his stomach, tickling the bottom of Safi’s foot until he’s a fit of snickers, kicking and almost scrambling from Zayn’s embrace.  Zayn grips him tighter, chewing on his bottom lip – _I know I’m giving in and believing every lie._

When fingers slide underneath his chin, push at it until Zayn’s turning his head, his eyes slides shut immediately.  He doesn’t gasp into the kiss, his entire body stuttered still but his lips part before Liam’s tongue asks for an invitation.  He tastes the mint along Liam’s mouth from his toothpaste, shudders when Liam’s fingers dig into his hip now – _I’ll be hurting from the heat._   He glides his tongue over Liam’s, grinning into the kiss when there’s a trembling moan cornered at the back of Liam’s throat.  He surrenders just enough into the kiss to let Liam have control, Liam’s thumb rubbing along the scruff on his chin until it’s almost irritating in a blissful way.

They ignore the way Louis pounds on the door, barking at them before stomping away.  He feels Liam’s lips spread into a grin, Safi becoming more than a little restless in Zayn’s arm and the water is spilling cooler water over his skin.  It prickles, Liam’s teeth nipping lightly at his bottom lip before drawing back.  Zayn chases them, wants a small reminder of how soft they are and Liam doesn’t hesitate to offer him another kiss, and another.  He lets Liam drag thick fingers through his soaked hair, pushing it all back while laughing lowly.  And Zayn turns, lets the cold water spread over his back while Liam pulls them in, shelters Safi between them until he’s no longer fussy, whimpering at the cool temperature.

“He hates the cold,” Liam reminds him, not that Zayn doesn’t already know.

He does too but he’s willing to brave it for a little longer to feel Liam’s arms secured around him, fingers locked right over the small of Zayn’s back.  He makes a face when Liam leans in for another kiss, snickering as Liam rolls his eyes, drops a kiss on the soft, damp hair of Safi’s head instead.  Zayn’s tongue runs over his lips, that swaying scent of lavender in the air and, fuck Harry Styles, he‘s in love with it now.

The rain trickles a little softer outside when they’re out of the shower, Zayn rubbing a large towel over his damp hair while Liam leads a stumbling Safi around the bathroom, small fingers gripping onto Liam’s pinkie.  Zayn leans up against the sink, smirking, draping the towel around his shoulders.  He bites at his lower lip, Liam chuckling when Safi waddles on shaky feet while trying to keep up with Liam.  He has a determined look on his face, like he can do all of this by himself but his fingers grip at Liam’s pinkie a little tighter as they try to round the sink and make it to the door.

“Slow down Saf,” Liam says with a low laugh, reaching down to steady Safi as he nearly trips into the door.

Zayn snorts, tilting his chin up.  He folds his arms, admiring the curve of Liam’s spine, the way his skin still looks sun-kissed in late November when the sun doesn’t reach nearly as high as it used to.  He finds all the little marks, the moles, the definition of muscle, the dips in his back that Liam hates but Zayn spends forever running his lips over.  He traces the curve of Liam’s ass, the thickness of his thighs and, honestly, it all feels like some silly song in his head but he admires every tiny piece of Liam because they’re his.  They’re fractions of a greater puzzle that make up this one person that Zayn’s sort of madly in love with.

He strays his eyes away because, fuck, he feels stupid.  Awkward.  Daft.  When did he become this mindless little lovesick shithead?  Louis would surely take a piss at him for this – usually does when Zayn’s not careful about his words or lingering eyes – and he’s certain Niall would do little to defend him.

He drags his foot along the tile of the floor, tries to school the beaming smile on his face when Safi comes stumbling toward him.  Liam’s not far behind, Safi crashing into Zayn’s legs while Liam bites at a laugh from behind him, inching up until they’re chest to chest, Safi caught between their legs.

Zayn lets his hands move on instinct, cupping Liam’s cheek, dragging down over his jaw, fingers tickled by the hairs along Liam’s chin.  He scans his eyes over Liam’s lips, the breathtaking mouth that leaves Zayn biting the inside of his own, a need to bruise those lips with forceful kisses that he knows Liam will complain about but savor.  Liam won’t turn away from them, could probably do more damage with his own mouth along Zayn’s skin, over those large wings tattooed on Zayn’s chest, sliding even lower.

“You’re thinking too much,” Liam tells him, leaning in until they’re foreheads rest together, Safi’s small hands tickling the hairs along Zayn’s legs.  “You should probably stop.  You’re not that brilliant.”

Zayn scoffs at him, licking his tongue out to run over Liam’s lips.  He cackles when Liam jerks back a little, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.  Zayn’s hand finds the back of his neck, pulls him back because, yeah, he needs Liam that close again.  He’s throwing a middle finger up to all of this thoughts because, fuck it all, he’s going to be clingy for just this moment.  He’ll give himself shit later about it, he knows, but he likes the burn of Liam’s scruff along his chin when Liam kisses him hard enough or the way Liam’s fingers press firmly against his back when Zayn’s lips skate over his neck, his tongue dragging over Liam’s collarbone.

He doesn’t know how far he’s fallen but it’s a little too far to climb back up now – _I’m going crazy, trying hard to forget. You know I’m trying hard to forget._ He wonders why would he even bother?

**

He feels at peace after he has a cigarette.  It’s not one of those long, drawn out huffs on a smoke he has most mornings or evenings when he can look up and find all the stars in the sky.  The rain was still pelting, making it even chillier outside.  He had to huddle in the doorway of the building, cupping his hand over his cigarette most of the time to stop the wind from putting out the flame – He’s certain Mrs. Carpenter, from two doors down, will complain later on about the lingering scent of smoke in the halls but she complains about almost anything when given the opportunity to.  Still, the burn along his lungs, that smoke still hovering in his chest, the way his fingers no longer trembled, and that itch just beneath his skin was gone.  It settles that uncomfortable feeling inside of him and, though he knows Liam will probably give him shit about it later, – _“Aren’t you supposed to be quitting?  Something about being around for Safi once he graduates college and moves onto to University?”_ – he feels everything fall into place for just a brief moment.

And that moment is quite brief whenever Louis and Niall are involved.

It doesn’t feel as chaotic as it looks but, then again, maybe he’s used to all of this.  Maybe he’s always been used to this – Niall sitting on the floor with Safi between his spread legs, his tongue hanging out of his mouth while trying to teach Safi how to play FIFA.  He’s all jerky movements, muffled profanity tossed at the telly whenever he misses a goal, head pulling back when Safi stands up to pull at his tall, bleached blonde hair until Niall nudges Safi back down and tries to explain the basics of the gameplay while slipping a snapback on his head.  Safi looks lost and Zayn rubs at his lips to sedate the smile brimming along the edges.

Yeah, Niall is a weird little shit and Zayn’s hoping he doesn’t manage to corrupt Safi along the way.

Louis’ in and out of the kitchen, making a pot of coffee that’s only slightly better than those shit cups Niall used to make – “Why do you even drink that shit?  You’re already quite wired, mate,” Niall tells him but he knows Niall’s just deflecting; they both learned that in their Psych classes at Uni.  He tunes out most of Louis’ phone call with Harry – probably because there’s only but so many times he can hear Louis talking about sucking Harry dry or which one of them is getting a dildo shoved up their ass later on – but he smiles when Louis tries to sneak off to a corner of the flat, whisper sweet things to Harry that will have his cheeks pink for just a little too long when he returns.  Louis flips him off when Zayn nudges his hip with his toe, grinning behind that mug of decent coffee Louis offered him earlier while Louis rattles on to Harry about “being stuck at work during the middle of a hurricane,” – Louis’ great at exaggerating; another trait Zayn hopes his son doesn’t pick up on.

Liam manages to throw together something for Niall to snack on while also fixing Safi a bowl of porridge and a bottle of juice.  Louis munches on the bacon Liam makes for himself, complaining about the crunchiness because Louis likes his bacon limp while Liam loves the taste of singed meat.  Zayn doesn’t ignore the way Niall makes eyes at him, mouth gaping and there’s a dozen dirty jokes he’s probably dying to hurl at them but he’s too distracted by the way Safi’s slapping his hands over his controller – a move Harry taught Safi to aid in his victories whenever he’s playing Niall.

“This little lad is out of control,” Niall says with a barking laugh, his cheeks a solid red as the corner of Safi’s eyes crinkle, his lips quirking and Zayn wonders if he looks more like Perrie or himself when he laughs like that.

“Kind of like you,” Louis notes, stirring a spoon into the cup of tea Liam’s made for him.  He smirks when Niall blindly flips him off, lifting his shoulders for a weak shrug when Liam sweeps by him with a snicker.

“You’re the one who spoils him, _Uncle Lou_ ,” Niall says in a teasing tone, scrubbing his fingers through Safi’s hair.

“I resent that,” Louis retorts, clinking his spoon against the porcelain mug.  He points it at Liam with a distrustful glimmer to those blue eyes.  “Liam is the one who spoils the little chap.”

Zayn feels the corners of his mouth lift, tipping his head back when Liam eases into the small space behind him on the couch, pulling Zayn’s back to his chest.  His round cheeks are a sharp cherry color and he’s ducking his head, rubbing his nose into Zayn’s neck rather than meeting anyone’s eyes.

Zayn knows Louis is far worse when it comes to overdoing things for Safi – “You bought him a mini-Corvette for a birthday gift, Lou.  He’s still learning how to _walk_.” “Zee, my nephew is brilliant.  He’ll be driving before he’s two and I want him to have the best car in the neighborhood.” – but he knows Liam doesn’t miss a moment to spend whatever leftover quid he has from what he makes at the record shop on Safi.  Zayn doesn’t give him shit about it but he doesn’t bite his tongue when he trips over at least three new toys Liam’s bought Safi in one week.  And the list of profanities he managed to hiss out when he stubbed his toe on the new fire engine Liam bought Safi just before his birthday still makes Liam blush and cower in a corner.

He feels warmed by the heat of Liam’s body, listening with mild interest in the way Niall and Louis prattle on about music, Harry, their adoration for reality television – honestly, he doesn’t know how the two of them survive without each other – before Louis’ sliding onto the floor next to Niall to tease Safi, pushing back the thin fringe on his forehead with a grin.

“Must your father have such poor choices in hairstyles,” Louis mumbles, chewing on a smile when Safi’s eyes light up.

Niall chances a glance over his shoulder to Zayn, eyebrow lifting at the way Zayn scowls at Louis for a second before his lips settle into a small grin, Liam pressing distracting kisses to the nape of his neck.

Zayn notices every little touch Liam feathers over his skin, the way his fingers lose themselves in Zayn’s thick quiff, lips pressing a smile against Zayn’s scruff.  It’s pure oxygen, the way Liam fits his legs around Zayn’s, tempered waves of fire when Liam shifts his fingers down Zayn’s forearms, linking their fingers.  The rain dances across the building like Liam’s lips over his cheek, down his neck, into that small section of skin between his shoulder and neck where his shirt dips low enough.  He doesn’t startle at the pinch of teeth into his skin, sinks into the spark as Liam’s thumbs stroke the back of his hands.

His eyes shift shut for a few beats, cornered by the way each and every one of Liam’s little movements don’t feel overwhelming.  They play against his thudding heart like the most inconceivable symphony of reverie.

Liam smiles at the way Niall holds onto Safi’s hips, Louis holding his hands as they make him dance to some stupid song Niall’s humming, Safi’s manic giggling tightening Zayn’s stomach in the most pleasant way.  They sit in that comforting silence with each other, something he never thought he’d understand.  He thinks it’s sometimes because Liam’s waiting for him to say something or maybe Liam’s giving him an opportunity to process it all.  Maybe Liam knows, for too long, his thoughts were the only thing keeping him at bay.

Maybe Liam wonders if he says too much, Zayn will run away.

He probably would have, before Liam.  He did with his family, with Perrie.  But not now.

Liam laughs into Zayn’s neck, Zayn fighting against his own echoing smile when Louis tries to feed Safi – most of it ends up on Niall’s shirt or across the side of his face.  It’s mind-numbing, the way the sound of Liam’s laughter, Safi’s too, settles him.  The way Liam can secure his arms around his slightly smaller frame, without words tangling everything, and he can escape any sense of being alone in this.  He knows Louis and Niall would never let him feel that way, Liam or not, but he refuses to deny the way Liam plays a greater part in all of it.

“You two are going to make horrible fathers,” Zayn teases, his nose scrunching with another laugh when Safi pushes the spoon Louis’ trying to guide into his mouth away.  He settles onto the floor between Louis’ spread legs, lifting his bottle to suck on the juice with a curl to his lips.

“Rubbish,” Louis huffs out, wide eyes when he looks at the drying porridge on Niall’s cheek and shirt.  “I’m going to make a brilliant dad.”

Zayn lifts his brow, Niall shooting Louis an incredulous look that Liam snorts at, burying another laugh into Zayn’s neck.

“Poor Harry,” Niall sighs out, slouching against the couch.

“Who says I want him around when I raise a family?  I’m not like these two,” Louis insists, jerking his head back toward Zayn and Liam.

Zayn refuses to look offended, catches the way a frown tugs at Liam’s lips from the corner of his eye.

Niall lets a howl of laughter pass through his lips, neon blue eyes crinkling.  He slaps Louis’ shoulder, refusing to settle his laughter when Louis gives him a hard shove.

“You can’t do _anything_ without Harry,” Niall says with a sneer, eyebrows drawn together with a mocking grin.

Louis looks taken aback, a hand on his chest with his lips slowly curling into an angry grin.

“Fucking bullshit,” Louis spits out.

Zayn feels Liam stiffen behind him.  He untangles their fingers, rubbing gently at Liam’s knee.

“Oh, quit the shit, Lou,” Niall groans, clicking his tongue against his teeth when Louis narrows his eyes at him.  “You think Harry is absolutely ace.  He practically walks on water to you.  You’d probably think it was an honor if he agreed to adopt a child with you, which would probably never happen because I don’t see anyone in their right mind allowing a child in your presence unless it was heavily supervised.”

“My best mate lets me watch his son,” Louis whispers, his brow furrowing.

“Your best mate is shit at decision making,” Niall points out, jumping when Zayn slaps the back of his neck.  They both know he deserves it but Niall won’t apologize.

Louis narrows his eyes at Niall once more, crossing his arms over his chest with tense shoulders and a twitching jaw.  Niall seems unaffected by it all, rolling his eyes and steadying Safi as he tries to drain his bottle.

“And what makes you think you’d be a better father?” Louis asks, his eyebrow arched.

“I’m Irish.”

Louis’ eyes go wide as if to ask, _‘What the fuck does that mean?’_ but he merely purses his lips with small slits hiding the blue in his eyes.

“We’re bred to raise large families.  Loads of kids,” Niall adds, using the hem of his shirt to wipe away the food still sticking to his cheek.  “And I’m bloody brilliant.  I could figure it all out.”

“Aww, bless,” Louis says flatly, nodding at Niall like he’s full of shit.

Zayn thinks he might be but he humors it all, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I’d get them all up for school each morning.  Cook ‘em breakfast and then have my wife _re-cook_ it because I’d probably burn the eggs and undercook the toast, you know,” Niall declares, leaning back with his head tipped to the ceiling like he’s imagining it all.  Zayn laughs lowly at the smile spreading across Niall’s lips.

“I’d watch them all gather around the table while drinking my ginger tea in the corner, flipping through the paper – “

“Diva,” Louis snorts out, flicking at Niall’s shoulder.

Niall flips him off as casually as possible, something Liam snickers at, before continuing.  “I’d have a run around the field with them, teaching them how to play football.  Have a pint on the weekends with Liam, even though he doesn’t drink, but I suspect he’d fancy a night out every now and again.”

Zayn grins, leaning his head back onto Liam’s shoulder while Liam nods slowly.  He finds it hard to deny the way his stomach coils with excitement at how Liam’s managed to fit into his life, into the lives of his mates.  It’s a smoother fit than when he had to force Perrie into Louis and Niall’s lives, or how she tried desperately to make him get along with Jesy – even though he despised how stubborn she was –, Jade – who always felt a bit too clingy to Perrie, almost as if she was in love with her –, and Leigh-Anne – who came across nice when she wasn’t a bit of a bitch toward Anthony and Danny.  But Louis and Niall didn’t need convincing about Liam, neither did Anthony or Danny when they finally met Liam.  It was instant.

“Such a cheeky chappie,” Louis sighs out with a roll of his eyes and a smile dancing over his lips.

“And my wife would be so _fit_.  The best bird in the neighborhood,” Niall grins out, reaching forward to rub gently at Safi’s cheek as he finishes his bottle, gasping for air when he lowers it.

Louis nods slowly, fiddling with a smirk.  “You seem absolutely chuffed about it all.”

“Of course, lad,” Niall says with a harking laugh.  “Eleanor and I would – “

“Get the fuck out,” Louis says slowly, cutting off Niall’s words.

“What?”

“No fucking way.”

“Come again?”

“Not happening, mate,” Louis demands, hands thrown up.  He’s sighing, looking at Niall with small eyes and a pointed finger.  “You can _date_ her, yeah, but no way will you _marry_ her.  I’ll slice off your cock.”

“You’re serious,” Niall tells him because he knows better than to ask Louis.  Not with the look painted across Louis’ face that says _‘I’ll cut your body into small pieces and feed it to your family with a side of mash.’_

“Quite serious,” Louis hisses.

“You’re fucking mad,” Niall laughs out, waving Louis off.

“Not happening Horan,” Louis argues, his tone tense.

“Fucking hell, Lou.”

“You will not ever let the thought pass your small brain again,” Louis warns, his finger still pointed.  “Not ever.”

Niall gapes at him, leaning back to glare at Louis.  “You’re bloody mental, lad.”

“You will not have her,” Louis presses, his expression shifting into something that feels definite.  Zayn hopes otherwise but he knows better with Louis.  Once his mind is set on something, well…

“You’ve got this sorted out, yeah?”

“You shall not have her.”

“I _will_ ,” Niall hisses, fingers curling.

“Shall not.”

“Fuck you Tomlinson.”

“I don’t think Harry would allow that,” Louis says offhandedly, sitting up straighter.  “But cheers if you think you’d have any luck fucking me.  And you can’t have her.”

“ _You shall not pass_!” Zayn shouts with a wheezing laugh, feet kicking in the air.  Louis eyes him with an incredulous look while Niall snickers lowly, swatting Zayn’s foot away.

Zayn shrugs, hoping to silence them both.  He feels Liam shift from behind him, pushing himself out of that small space between the arm of the couch and Zayn’s body.  Zayn glances back curiously, catches the way Liam’s brow is pulled together, his mouth pursed, the squaring of his shoulders.  There’s an annoyed look washing over his face as he eases around in front of Niall, leaning down to scoop Safi into his arms.

“Would you lot mind not swearing quite as much in front of my son,” Liam sighs out, pulling Safi close to his chest while stepping over Niall and Louis’ legs toward the kitchen.

Liam freezes immediately, his body stiffening, round brown eyes growing large.  Louis’ lips quirk into a smile, Niall’s face slipping into something resembling confusion.  Zayn leans back, raking his short nails over the back of his neck, a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth while Liam goes pale, turning a little with worry gripping his face.  He runs his eyes over Louis, skipping over Niall, searching Zayn’s face for something.

Zayn doesn’t bother to repress the pride flickering off his smile.  His cheeks pull up, fingers rubbing at his bottom lip, and he knows Liam spots the way Zayn looks on him warmly.  He watches Liam’s shoulders slump forward, his jaw falling a little slack, that troubled brow lifting again.

“We’re so sorry _daddy_ ,” Louis teases, tipping his head back to offer Liam wide eyes and a taunting grin.  “Didn’t mean to offend you or _your_ son.”

“I, I mean, if you could – “

“Don’t sweat it Liam,” Niall says quickly, waving him off.  “Wouldn’t want to corrupt my nephew the way Louis has corrupted the rest of us.”

“Hey, I resent that.”

“No, you _resemble_ that,” Niall laughs out, shoving Louis.

Louis shrugs a shoulder, nodding.

Liam’s still staring at Zayn, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s waiting for Zayn to correct him, waiting for Zayn to tell him that Safi is actually _his_ son, not _Liam’s_.  He doesn’t.  He sinks his teeth into a corner of his bottom lip, fingers still rubbing slowly over the back of his neck.  He tilts his head to the side, eyes watching the way Safi’s fingers curl into the fabric of Liam’s shirt, his head leaning against Liam’s shoulder and he’s perfectly calm in Liam’s arms.  He’s at peace like he always is with Liam.  It’s as if Liam has always been there, since the beginning.

Zayn grins to himself.  He feels the same way.

“Think you could change our son’s clothes, babe?  I promised Lou he could take Saf out for a while, visit with Haz,” Zayn requests, sinking further into the couch with a curling smile that Liam softens under.

Liam nods quietly, pressing his cheek to the side of Safi’s head.  There’s still an awkwardness to his stance, an unsteady drumming in the way his eyes move but Zayn brushes it off.  He doesn’t need to comfort Liam, not when everything about the two of them together makes Zayn want to crawl inside of himself until someone can tell him this life really isn’t as perfect as he thinks it feels.

“He needs supervision,” Niall sings out with a grin, wincing when Louis’ smacks the back of his neck.  Zayn knows it stings, the large red imprint of Louis’ hand already burning against Niall’s skin but he thinks Niall probably deserved that too.

“You’re coming with me,” Louis hisses lowly, tugging at Niall’s hair like a five year old.  Part of Zayn thinks Louis still is that infantile.

“I am?”

“Yes,” Louis says, a matter-of-fact roll to the word.  “I’m not fit to monitor Safi by myself.  He’s too much like his father.”

“Ha!” Niall barks out, Zayn huffing out a sigh.

Nothing feels in place when Louis and Niall are involved.

**

He doesn’t know how they end up back in bed, stripped of clothing, buried beneath the sheets.

Well, he does actually.  He remembers Louis and Niall fighting over what Safi should wear, Liam deciding for them because, honestly, those two were truly incapable of handling such trivial decisions.  He can still feel the warmth of Safi’s forehead when he pressed a kiss to it, the way Safi blinked iris eyes up at him, lips spreading into a small smile while Zayn slipped a small hat over his head, tugging it over his ears.  He remembers Liam listing off loads of things Louis and Niall were not allowed to do with Safi – _“I’m serious.  No strip clubs.”_ – that Niall and Louis nodded along to like they were paying attention but they were too busy trying to figure out how to strap Safi into his car seat, a task Zayn is certain he’s struggled with for too long.

He remembers lying on the couch with Liam, curled into those strong arms and sniffing at Liam’s skin, rubbing his nose along Liam’s shoulder to see if he smelled more like soap or something sweeter.  He can still feel Liam’s fingers curling over his hip, something about watching a film that had Zayn grinning and nodding.  He doesn’t remember most of _EuroTrip_ outside of Liam constantly humming ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’ in his ear but he can still feel Liam’s fingers sliding beneath his shirt, trickling over his stomach, up over his chest, down his side until he’s giggling into Liam’s arm.

There’s still stretches of his neck throbbing from Liam’s kisses, the marks his teeth left behind.  He can still hear Liam’s soft breathing in his ear when Liam fell asleep halfway through the film, mumbling about sweets and his mum’s stew until Zayn nudged him awake, grinning up at the ceiling when Liam whined softly, burying his face in Zayn’s neck.  His bottom lip still feels raw from chewing at it too hard when Liam’s kisses ran a little lower.  He was clawing at Zayn’s shirt until he slid out of it, letting Liam trap his body between Liam’s and the couch to decorate his chest in small bites, long kisses, rough strokes of his tongue.

They were nothing but giggles and fumbling kisses on the way to the bedroom.  Liam’s shirt was left somewhere in the hall, Zayn’s jeans crumpled by the door, Liam’s joggers curled into a corner of the room.  And there was nothing rushed, intentional about the way their fingers pressed at skin, scraped along muscles.  He knows it was lazy, casual: every touch, every kiss.

At least, it started that way.

Zayn’s hair is a wreck, Liam’s fingers pulling a little too hard until Zayn’s growling, grinning at the way it feels.  His scruff is rubbing Liam’s skin raw and red, his cheek dragging down Liam’s neck as he presses chapped lips over Liam’s shoulder.  Their fingers are tangled together, bodies pushing against each other for control.  Zayn wonders if Liam surrenders because Zayn seems so insistent or if it’s because, secretly, there are days when he _wants_ Zayn to dominate him.  He smirks at that.  He knows there are moments, when the night is still and Zayn’s impossibly horny, that Liam gives Zayn anything he wants.  He’s pliant beneath Zayn’s fingers, back arching high when Zayn whispers something particularly filthy in his ear, legs spreading like he can’t imagine Zayn doing anything other than sinking inside of him until the world collapses in on itself.

Zayn’s not opposed to that notion at all.

Their feet drag the sheets back, the rain outside just a hollow of what it was earlier.  There’s drops hitting the roof like petals falling from a flower.  The thunder is a low roar now, the sound sinking beneath the pants being pushed from Liam’s lungs, Zayn’s soft moans echoing as his tongue rolls over Liam’s nipple.

He chews at his bottom lip, Liam’s legs spreading wide until the sheets fall back and there’s nothing but an ocean of skin for Zayn to run his lips over.

“Fuck, touch me,” Liam coos, his head tipping back with lidded eyes.

Zayn smiles, lips trapping a nipple, teeth tugging until Liam lets out a low hiss.

“What do you want, babe?” Zayn asks against Liam’s chest, his cheek running over that small tuft of hair between Liam’s pectorals, fingers scrambling over Liam’s body.  His nails dig into Liam’s hips, lifting them until that slow drag of skin on skin sparks a fire that burns away Zayn’s senses.

“Zayn,” Liam gasps, shuddering when his cock rubs over Zayn’s belly, smearing precome over it.  “I don’t, fuck, I don’t know.  _Anything_.”

“Do you want me to suck you?” Zayn asks, waving off Liam’s inability to think properly.  He knows that feeling, when Liam’s lips are curling around his cock, his tongue stroking over it and, yeah, he thinks he wants that.  He thinks he wants to see how much Liam can take today.  Maybe Liam won’t gag when he straddles his shoulders, fucking into his mouth.

He feels oversensitive at the thought, his breath hitching when Liam reaches between them to thumb his cock.

“Yes,” Liam wheezes out, fingers pulling through Zayn’s hair again, dragging him up until they’re kissing, sloppy and heated.

“I could let you suck me,” Zayn whispers against Liam’s lips, trying to clear the fog from his mind as Liam drags his lips over Zayn’s.  “I could ride you.  Fuck, I could lay on my back and – “

“Everything,” Liam hisses, untangling his fingers from Zayn’s hair to drag dull nails down Zayn’s back.  His hips arch off the bed, pushing against Zayn’s and the force nearly knocks Zayn off of him.

“Yeah?” Zayn wonders, straddling Liam’s hips, holding him down for a moment to press patient kisses against Liam’s lips.

Liam groans, fingers tiptoeing down Zayn’s spine.  “Or you could fuck me?”

Zayn grins at the suggestion, his mouth sliding open when Liam’s tongue presses at his lips.  He sucks on the tip, rucking his hips downward.  Liam’s cock is caught between their bodies, pulsing against that space just behind Zayn’s balls.  He knows if he angles just right, reaches back and lines it up, he could probably let it slide in easily.  The thought of the burn, the way his hole is probably just a little too tight, rakes over his brain until he’s a bit breathless with Liam’s lips against his own.

“You could come on my chest while I finger you,” Liam says softly, his breath ragged as Zayn pulls back.

Zayn’s eyes shift wide, his body trembling when he feels Liam’s index finger circle his hole, push gently at it.

“You’re a naughty chap,” Zayn tells him with a laugh, trying not to shift back until that finger slides in.  His hole is puckering, pulsing at the idea and he has to swallow, push at Liam’s shoulders until that finger slides away.

“You’ve ruined me,” Liam says breathily, head tipping back to expose his smile for Zayn.

Zayn shakes his head, leaning down for a chaste kiss, one that hovers until Zayn’s lips feel bruised and swollen.

“You made me fall in love,” Zayn whispers back, lips dancing on the edge of Liam’s.  “You started this.”

Liam grins at that, teeth pulling on his bottom lip while the smooth part of his palm rubs at Zayn’s hip, up his sides.

“Not my fault.  You’re just – “

“Can I lick you?” Zayn blurts out, narrowing his dark eyes as Liam arches an eyebrow.

“My cock?” Liam wonders, tilting his head to the side.  Zayn thinks it’s a silly move; he’s certain he doesn’t look any different from a sideways view.

Zayn shakes his head slowly, chewing at his own lip as he scoots back, his fingers shifting down Liam’s body, skipping over his cock to slide lower.  He inches them behind Liam’s balls, watching the fevered blush ravage Liam’s cheeks as he presses at Liam’s hole.

“ _Here._ ”

Liam swallows thickly, eyes widening.  His fingers tangle in the sheets, a flicker of concern shifting over his eyes before he’s nodding slowly.

Zayn’s never done this.  Liam has, several times.  He’s good at it, the way his tongue moves, the way it slides.  It’s the way he shifts his fingers in at the last moment when Zayn’s a mumbling mess against the sheets with his legs spread, ass lifted into the air, fingers shredding the sheets.  And Liam’s unforgiving with that mouth, kissing at Zayn’s hole, stroking it with his tongue all while Zayn’s coming against the sheets, pleading with Liam to stop because he can’t take it anymore.  He probably could but that smirk that folds over Liam’s lips, the way he nods but continues to lick Zayn until h collapses, struggling to breathe, tells him otherwise.

Liam’s cupping the back of his thighs, Zayn’s hands there for support as he shifts Liam’s legs further apart.  He presses down, forcing Liam’s knees wider until they’re on either side of his head.  He blinks at Liam’s puckered hole, the way Liam’s chewing on his thumbnail with nervous eyes.

Zayn slides a hand over the back of Liam’s thigh, squeezing gently.  He knows Liam’s not used to this – giving away so much of himself.  He lets Zayn have control, but never fully.  He maintains some sort of command in whatever they do, some sort of quiet dominance that Zayn never complains about.  He knows that fear.  Who wants to expose every piece of themselves to someone?

He presses a quiet kiss to Liam’s ankle, a shifting grin passing over his lips as he tickles a finger over Liam’s hole, waits until Liam stops chewing at his lip before he nudges it gently, watching the way Liam gasps.

“You don’t,” Liam starts, swallowing half of his words before he says, “You don’t have to do this, babe.  I just want you to touch me.”

Zayn smirks.  Liam’s shit at lying, not that he ever tries to.  “I want to.  ‘m fine with this.”

Liam nods quickly, biting at the edge of his lip again.  His toes flex, thighs tremble and Zayn ignores the pinching words at the back of his head reminding him Liam’s delicate.  He’s far from it.  He’s raw strength, soft hands that turn possessive when he’s inside of Zayn.  He’s pure energy, neon bursts of light when he smiles, when he pulls at Zayn’s hair.  He’s unbreakable glass when Zayn thrusts into him from behind, curling his fingers with Zayn’s, begging Zayn for more.

Zayn presses a finger in, opening Liam up.  Liam sighs, his eyes small slits of quiet darkness.  He tucks his chin, lips parting when Zayn pushes in a little farther, knuckle-deep.  There’s a pounding drum in his head as he drags his finger back, watching Liam hiss, his chest holding in a breath.

Liam feels relaxed, his body shifting a bit when Zayn pushes back in, pulling out just as quick.  Zayn curls his tongue around his finger, running it in a lewd manner until Liam’s eyes go wide, pupils blown.  The corners of Zayn’s mouth curl into a sinful smile, keeping Liam’s eyes on his own as he presses in again, easing in a little easier until he sinks all the way in.

“Mmm,” Liam hums, teeth digging into his lip.  His eyes are begging for Zayn to move but Zayn merely wiggles his finger around, tries to memorize the heat, the tightness before he pulls out again.

Liam whines, eyes sliding shut, a hand slipping off of his leg to grip the sheets.  He’s biting back a plea, Zayn can tell, worrying his lip as Zayn circles his hole with that finger.

Zayn loves the way Liam becomes a slave to the touch.  He wets two fingers, sliding them in, watching the way Liam struggles to push back onto them from this angle.  It seems impossible but Liam’s all muscle and determination, finding a way to grind onto Zayn’s thrusting fingers.  Zayn knows he’s gleaming, biting at his lip while watching Liam’s cock leak precome over his stomach, matting that thick trail of hair below his navel to his skin.

He’s patient with his movements, pushing in deep until he strikes Liam’s prostate.  He forces down, rubbing against that ball of nerves until all of Liam’s words move like a waterfall over his lips, slipping into the air.  It’s a string of nonsense that Zayn giggles at, scissoring his fingers to loosen Liam even more.  He thinks about chucking his plans aside, reaching into that bedside table to pull out a condom.  He could roll it on, slide into Liam just that easily.

He bites down hard on his lip to stop himself, catching the way Liam’s eyes blink open, a nervous petition written into his expression.  Those warm brown eyes are like a trail of dust from a falling star.  He’s hypnotized for a second too long, pushing down hard enough that Liam’s fingers drag at the sheets, lips parted to breathe out heavy pants.

Those full lips, the way they’re raw and begging to be kissed, drag against Zayn’s mind.  He runs his tongue over his own lips, pulling his fingers out.  He runs his thumb over Liam’s hole, feels it quiver as Liam tries to steady himself, tries to hide from the fact that he’s blushing a deep rose hue.

“I think I want you to fuck me,” Liam shudders out, eyes closing when the words fall away.  He’s almost ashamed, eyelashes curled against his cheeks, teeth nipping at his lip.  “Just, fuck, Zayn, get a condom.”

“No,” Zayn says, not even considering Liam’s words.  He surprises himself with his tone, remaining stern when Liam’s eyes bat open, shock ruling them.

Zayn leans in, blaring grin on his lips with almost black eyes.  “I’m going to make you come with just my tongue inside of you, babe.  And you’re going to like it.”

Liam nods as best he can with his legs nearly flat against the bed on either side of his head.  He shifts beneath Zayn, spreading just a little further like he’s not opposed to the suggestion.  In fact, his lips curl into a smile, a quiet admittance to what he wants.

Zayn presses warm kisses over Liam’s thighs, sucking a deep mark into one of them.  Liam’s fingers glide over his hair, sinking in.  Zayn grins against his skin, swiping his tongue over the red mark before sliding away.

Liam’s skin still smells like soap, a touch of lavender.  He tastes a little musky, nothing that Zayn can’t become accustom to.  There’s a headiness to it, his tongue drawing slow patterns around Liam’s hole until Liam’s panting out small breaths, fingers curling into the sheets.  Zayn tries to remember what he likes, how he loves when Liam presses his tongue in – _“Oh, Christ, Zayn.”_ – and when Liam drags his tongue up and down his hole – _“Don’t, oh God, don’t stop that.”_

Zayn leaves openmouthed kisses over Liam’s hole, his spread cheeks.  He dips down with his tongue again, a few swipes that have Liam shuddering – _Time is wasted, words are cheap._   He laps at the trembling hole, watching it clench and open for his tongue.  He grins, soft kisses there before pressing his tongue back in.

“Zayn,” Liam gasps, yanking at the sheets until they’re sliding beneath Zayn’s knees.

Zayn hums quietly, nodding his approval before gliding his tongue up and down that small stretch of skin.  He circles the tip of his tongue just outside Liam’s hole, eyes sliding shut.  He breathes Liam in, the sweat, the manly scent that clings to Liam each time Zayn goes down on him.  It makes his cock throb against his stomach, hands pressing at the back of Liam’s thighs to open him wider.

Liam rolls his head, shuddery breaths burning his lungs.  His chest is heaving and Zayn tries not to watch the way Liam’s face scrunches up when Zayn digs his tongue inside.  It singes his skin – _Nothing now can ever come between us_ – and he’s blowing heavy breaths over Liam’s damp skin.

Sweat clings to Liam’s forehead, his chin tucking to look at Zayn through lidded eyes.  He’s nodding, encouraging Zayn to continue and Zayn grins.  He presses his tongue a little firmer, Liam’s body welcoming him.  His hole stretches for Zayn, toes curling while his fingers flex against the mattress.

Zayn feels dizzy with the headiness, the way Liam keeps letting out soft whines when Zayn licks around his hole, sliding a finger in with his tongue until Liam’s shuddering against the sheets.

“Please,” Liam finally says softly, the word curled around a moan – _As we hide and watch the city burn._   His eyes clench shut as Zayn drags his tongue flatly over him.  “Zayn, don’t stop.”

He loves watching the way Liam breaks beneath him.  He knows Liam can’t find that balance, that line between ecstasy and control.  But there’s a lingering rush of trust in his eyes when Zayn kisses his thighs, nips at his cheeks with his teeth.  He knows Zayn won’t abandon him, not when he’s breathless and pleading for more.  And Zayn won’t tease him.  He won’t leave Liam shattered against the sheets.

“Touch yourself,” Zayn requests, his nose brushing over Liam’s balls as his tongue lifts a little higher over his hole.  “Come like this.”

Liam nods, a sharpness to his eyes but he’s not quite coordinated enough.  Not with Zayn sliding two fingers in now, pulling Liam’s hole wider for his tongue to lick into.  His tongue flicks rapidly, drawing out little hisses that ring against his ears – _There is much that I still want to tell you. But now is not the time to speak of love._   He feels Liam tensing, pushing back against Zayn’s tongue.  He feels the shudder when he presses those two fingers in deep, striking that flame again until Liam’s groaning weakly, sweat sticking to his skin.

“Zayn,” Liam coos, his back arching.  Zayn nods, pulling those fingers out to rub his tongue around the rim.

There’s an echo of moans now, some higher and strained while others are quiet and wet.  Zayn eases his middle finger in, licking around the edge while digging deep.  Liam’s so open, willing, begging for just a little more.  Zayn smiles at that because he knows, if he wanted, he could fuck Liam until he was nothing but ragged breaths and fingers desperately trying to claw at Zayn’s skin.

“Close,” Liam whispers, pulling Zayn from his haze.

Zayn watches Liam attempt to stroke himself.  It’s more fingers rubbing at the head, pushing the foreskin back, thumbing the slit but it makes Zayn harder, pushing his own cock against the sheets to feel that soft friction that’s not quite enough.

His tongue laps at Liam’s hole, his skin shiny and wet.  He stiffens his tongue, pokes inside again, loving the way Liam clenches around him like he does when it’s Zayn’s cock pushing inside.  He pulls back with a gasp, eyeing the way Liam’s cock leaks against his fingertips, leaves them glistening and sticky.

Liam’s breaths come a little more desperately, shifting against Zayn until Zayn’s fingernails dig into his skin, still him – _Warriors are both time and patience but you and I are worlds apart._   He slides another finger inside of Liam, thrusting until Liam’s nothing but hollowed breaths.

“Oh, Zayn,” Liam whines, finally finding a grip on his cock that works.

Zayn watches the way Liam flicks his wrist, fingers curling tightly, thumb pulling at that foreskin to expose the red head.  He reaches down to grab his own cock, tugging on it lightly because he doesn’t want to come before Liam does.  He doesn’t want to miss the way Liam will unfold, eyes blissed out, mouth releasing dry pants.

He feels Zayn tighten around his finger, the bed rocking a little as Liam tosses his head back.  He’s beautiful for a breath too long, a sharp inhale as he reaches out, fingers curling tightly around Zayn’s forearm.  Zayn doesn’t let up, pushing against Liam’s prostate, pulling a little harder on his own cock.

Liam comes with a whimper, staring at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow in oxygen.  He bites down on his bottom lip, rides out the high as he stripes his stomach with come.  He’s shivering, a broken shard of glass reflecting the light of the room.  He tightens around Zayn’s finger, ragged breaths passing his lips as he holds onto his softening cock.  He looks dazed, satiated, falling slowly from grace – _Beckoning to me. More than memory_.

Zayn misses the build, the way his stomach coils tightly, the way that tender stroke of his fingers over the head of his cock nearly blinds him.  His knees feel raw, aching from the pressure he’s put on them but he crawls up Liam.  He straddles Liam’s chest, his breathing uneven, the world around him on fire.  He watches the way Liam looks up at him through dazed eyes, nodding his approval to Zayn.  There’s a flicker of encouragement in Liam’s eyes.  His is mouth slack and Zayn comes like that, trapped in the mixture of adoration and desire in Liam’s eyes.

He knows they’ll shower later.  They’ll laugh about it all, quiet kisses that will haunt him because he’ll want more.  He knows he’ll need more but he thinks he always will with Liam.  It’s becoming instinct.

Liam pulls the duvet over them, using one of Zayn’s discarded shirts – He knows he’ll hear about that later too – to wipe away the come sticking to his chest and stomach, over their fingers.  Zayn curls into Liam’s arms, smiling against his neck.  His tongue licks out to taste the salty sweat along Liam’s skin, marveling at the way Liam still feels strong and willing afterwards.  He sighs happily when Liam presses a kiss to his forehead, tangling their legs together while the rain trickles a little heavier outside.

He’s always loved the feeling of being in Liam’s arms during the rain.  He wonders if Liam’s forgotten that.  Probably not, not when Liam’s arms draw tighter around him.  Not when he can feel Liam’s smile against his skin – _Words are useless here until you are near_ – or the way Liam brushes that scruff against his skin, whispering his thoughts into Zayn’s ear.

_“I want to go buy the book shop tomorrow.  Maybe pick up a few comics.  And the art store too.  Pick up a few things so you and Safi can paint while I’m working.”_

Zayn smiles at that.  He knows he and Safi will be covered in blues and greens by the time Liam returns, not that he’ll mind at all.

_“Harry wants to plan something nice for his next date with Lou.  I don’t know why they keep pretending like they’re not settled down or whatever.  It’s quite obvious.”_

It is, though Louis’ only admitted it after a rather long bender where he and Niall were stumbling in the streets while Zayn tried to call a cab.

_“It’s almost December.  The snow will be coming soon.  I can’t wait to build a snowman with Saf.  We’ll call him Frosty and buy one of those plastic reindeers.  You know, the kind you can put up on the roof.  Frosty and Rudolph.  I’m sure he’ll be quite chuffed about it.”_

The corners of Zayn’s eyes crinkle with a smile.  He doesn’t have the heart to tell Liam that Safi has no idea who Rudolph or Frosty are, let alone where they’ll find such a thing in this city.  But his lips quirk with that smile because, though he sort of hates the snow, he thinks the image of Liam running around in those ivory flakes with Safi is a pleasant one.

_“We should get a house.  Just the three of us.  Not that far from the city with a big backyard to play footie in.”_

Zayn nods, biting at his lip.  He’s never thought about it – the three of them, this family they’ve created, living in a house with a dog and a backyard.  With neighbors that’ll sit with them for tea or bring over pies because Zayn can’t bake and he doesn’t trust Liam alone with a cookbook.  Neighbors that’ll watch Safi grow up, watch over him when he comes home from school and Zayn’s still in class or Liam’s busy at the store.

He can’t help the way that smile spreads, nuzzling his nose to the inside of Liam’s arm.

_“Is it okay?  What I said earlier?  About, well, Safi?”_

Zayn’s quiet for a moment, nodding.  He hasn’t put much thought into it.  It’s not as though Perrie calls much anymore, not since Safi’s birthday.  Not that he’s considered the notion of forcing Liam into that position.  He hasn’t mentioned it, though Louis might have whispered something to him about adoption and the ways to go about it with Liam.  He hasn’t mulled on that idea or presented it to Liam yet.

But, still, he can’t stop the way his heart races when he thinks about Liam’s words: _“My son.”_

It feels honest.  It feels proper.  It feels natural.

“It’s okay,” Zayn whispers, inching up to ease a kiss to Liam’s lips.  “He’s yours.  I’m yours, you idiot.  Just the three of us, remember?”

Liam nods, biting at a smile but Zayn scrunches his nose with his own grin, sliding down until Liam’s lips are against his hairline once more.

He’s uncertain if he’ll ever grow accustom to this, his life.  The one with Safi, with his friends, with Liam.  Maybe he will one day, but he’s okay with the thought of never getting used to it.

This sort of feeling is too amazing to ever become content with.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I hope I succeeded in making this a fluffy fic to make up for the lack thereof in the original story. Maybe the smut will make up for the sweetness?
> 
> I might do it again sometime if I can find a good idea that strikes me. Hopefully I didn't lose too many readers with this one =) xx Jesse


End file.
